Cultivate Poverty Like A Garden Herb

Just wait and see the fun side of a tragedy...

Cultivate Poverty Like A Garden Herb

(Henry David Thoreau)

A Holiday Story of Nobility for Peter

1

Sharon heard Maven’s happy yelp, then a rushing sound as the dog barreled down the front steps to meet Declan. She strained to hear her husband’s footsteps as he climbed; she knew the different kinds of noises her husband’s heavy work shoes made on the steps when he returned home. She could tell if he was sad, angry, happy, even hungry. Now his feet were slow to mount the steps and Sharon’s heart quavered.  This was the day; she would know quite soon whether or not Declan and his father had to give in to forces beyond their control and close the family’s car repair service. Declan entered the kitchen and they looked at each other. It was not good news; Maven looked subdued. He could tell when his family was sad.

“Where’re the kids?” Declan asked.

“Playing Monopoly upstairs.”

“OK Sharon, yes we are closing. But please don’t cry; it’s not all bad.”

“Tell me.”

“Teresa knows somebody on Neville Island, he’s a neighbor of hers. There’s a factory there and they need somebody like me. But listen, honey, this is going to be tough. The manager there wants someone who can work steady overtime. Monday through Friday, 9 AM to 9PM. It’s a ladies clothing factory. With my mechanical experience Teresa said I’d be good at it and I definitely would get the job. It’s a foreman’s job”

“But Declan�"60 hours a week? You’ll die from exhaustion. And the fuel you’ll use up, going all the way to Neville Island and back?”

“Listen to me, Sharon. Teresa told me that I could stay at her house, sleep in the guest room.  I’d throw in a few bucks for food and stuff. Teresa lives right close by. I wouldn’t even need the car during the week; I could walk to this factory and back in only a few minutes. C’mon baby, don’t cry, please; we’ll see each other on weekends.”

“What’s the money like?”

“I figured it out. I’d be making close to what I make now. But not close enough to stay in this house. We’d have to find a cheaper place to live.”

“I’ll get a job and then we could afford the rent here and the kids wouldn’t be uprooted.”

“Let’s not start that again. We talked about this, remember? I’m the man and I need to make the money and you need to stay home where the kids need you�"where I need you too.”

“Dev is ten years old, Declan. He’d be OK here with Doris after school. He’s grown up so much during this last year�"you even commented on that a few days ago.”

“Uh-uh Sharon. Nope. The reason he’s maturing quickly is that he’s getting proper care. He’s not ready for being in charge here after school; he ain’t cooked yet.  (Sharon managed to laugh.) And Doris needs to see you after her full day of kindergarten. She’s only five. Even with Dev being so grown up and responsible it would be too hard on everybody.”

Silence.

“I guess when there’s a recession people have to make sacrifices,” said Sharon. “and also to be grateful. Thank God you have a sister who is willing to help us.”

“That’s my Sharon. We all have to be strong. We’ve got to tell the kids now.”

2

Declan told his wife afterwards that he would never forget that family meeting, the one where he and Sharon had to tell Dev and Doris that they wouldn’t see their father all week.  Whenever he felt sad or discouraged he visualized this scene.

The children digested the news well because Sharon had prepared them without scaring them to death. She had told them what a recession is and how their father might lose his business; they would maybe have to move away from their home on a block in Squirrel Hill that they all loved.

After Sharon delivered the news, the children sat quietly.

Then Doris asked “Is this the recession now?”

“Yes,” answered Dev patiently. “We’ve been having it for a while. Remember, Mommy told us all about it.”

Sharon’s experienced mother’s ear picked up on the word “Mommy.”  Dev only called her Mommy when he was feeling vulnerable.

 “Where are we going?” asked Doris in a quavering voice. Immediately Maven went and lay down at Doris’ side and put his head in her lap. She put her arm around him.

“Honey, we don’t know yet,” said Declan. “We’ll have to begin searching for a new place that we can afford.  Listen, though�"we can talk on the phone every night and do loads of fun stuff on the weekends.”

Dev moved over to Doris’ other side and held her hand. 

They sat on the floor intertwined, the two kids and the dog; they looked up at Sharon and Declan. Sharon had a funny thought. Between her 10 year old son Dev and Maven the dog, she had few fears about Doris’ safety.  With Dev and Maven watching over Doris and Dev explaining things to Doris all the time, Sharon’s job as a mother was what she privately called “light duty.” When she confided this to her husband, Declan said to not underestimate her role and her presence in their daughter’s life.

“OK everyone. Let’s go out and celebrate the fact that I’ll have a job. Get the coupons, Sharon, and the kids will decide where to go.”

“You mean we can still eat out?”  Doris sounded relieved.

“Using coupons,” Dev pointed out soberly. Then he beamed at his parents and little sister. “This is adventure eating!”

Sharon came back with an envelope full of coupons. They were to be used at all the fast food restaurants; she had coupons for McDonalds, Wendy’s, Burger King, etc.  She spread them out on the floor.  Dev and Doris chose the one for Arby’s where they could get four roast beef sandwich super meals for the price of three. Doris couldn’t eat all the meat on Arby’s sandwiches and she always kept a portion aside for Maven.

3

In the short space of six weeks the family got resettled. Declan had called his sister’s neighbor and went for a successful job interview; the three other members of the family were living in a much smaller place, an apartment, not a house as before.

Other than having to find a place that accepted dogs, the hardest part of the move was having to tell Dev and Doris that there was no extra space for the children’s art room; nor was there a big tree to swing from and no back yard.

Sharon knew that it was like sending your husband off to war; it was important for her to be strong and firm and put a good face on the whole thing or everyone’s morale would collapse. Her thoughts about the move to Spring Street were not pleasant; however the place had most of what her family required so she would have to make the best of it for everyone including herself. It was all in the presentation.

“Guess what, guys? We’re going to look at a big apartment on a little side street and you’ll never guess where it is? And the name of the street is Spring Street!”

Doris jumped up and her mane of curly red hair bounced on her shoulders.

“Where, Mommy? Spring Street sounds pretty. Is it someplace nice? Can we bring Maven there?”

“Oh yes. Would we even consider a place where Maven would not be allowed?”

Dev was silent. Being savvy and no fool, he knew that his mother was trying her best to be a cheerleader. The places they had seen up until now were dumps.

“Spring Street is a five minute walk to the main branch of the Carnegie Library complex and the natural science collection!” announced Sharon.

Even Dev allowed himself to be happy upon hearing that. Being so close to the library and museum would help to make up for the loss of their art room at home. If his mother would allow him to cross Forbes Avenue by himself it would be perfect. Sharon had taken note of his pale face lately and her mother’s heart cried but she could do nothing; now there appeared two spots of red on Dev’s cheeks.

“Spring Street is a side street�"not a street exactly, more an alley�"that connects Fillmore and Winthrop Streets bisecting South Craig Street.”

“Do people really live there? Where do we go to school?”

“I’ve taken care of that,” said Sharon proudly. She did have something to be proud of. She had appeared daily in the huge block-long building that housed the Pittsburgh Board of Education offices and petitioned, nagged, cried, sat for hours until somebody would hear her, told her story over and over to various officials�"until they gave in to her demand. They were going to send a special van to the corner of Fillmore and Craig in the mornings to take Dev and Doris to their school and again to return. Sharon gave her children a warning speech.

“Now you know what I had to do to get this van for you�"and I was warned repeatedly that if you guys are late the van won’t wait for you.  So please, please, no five minute hysterias in the mornings before leaving time?”

Doris’ eyes were big and she looked at her brother. Dev would, Sharon knew, set his alarm clock very early in order to shepherd Doris out of the house on time.

4

Declan was doing OK, he told himself, but his heart hurt. He wasn’t having heart trouble; he just missed his family so much that it hurt. If Eve was made out of a rib from Adam’s chest, then Declan knew just where that particular rib was located.  That’s the place that ached.

He wasn’t saying that “…he never realized how much he loved his family until he was separated from them five days a week.” When he saw Sharon and the kids all the time he was always happy, had fun with them, did all he could for them, knew he was happy. He knew on a daily basis how much he loved them and depended on all of them.  He even depended on Doris because of the way she told people to not call her Dorrie. Once at a neighborhood barbecue a neighbor man pinched Doris’ cheek and called her Dorrie. The soft blue-grey of Doris’ eyes turned to what Declan called “steely-eyed missile man grey” and she sent the neighbor away with a stiff command to call her Doris.  Later, still incensed, Doris made the family laugh when she said that the poor man had green eyes “like a monster” and that he “spitted” when he talked.

Yes, he relied on all three of them and more than anything, for perspective. For a world view�"more like a navigation? That’s the best word for it. Like in the movie Contact  with Jodie Foster, when pages and pages of data, pages that looked like plans or blueprints, were being sent and nobody could make sense of it all�"and John Hurt turned the pages around in a different configuration and suddenly it all made sense�"that’s exactly what Declan’s family meant to him.

As Declan walked the five blocks to the factory where he was foreman he pictured Dev.  Straight, upright, strong yet compact, unhesitating blue eyes; a young man at the age of ten. Declan sometimes worried that people were talking about Dev, saying that Declan and Sharon were doing something to their son to make him grow up too fast. It was as if Dev were patiently waiting for young adulthood. Kids things didn’t interest him. Well yes, he had fun at a couple of birthday parties at Chuckie Cheese but there wasn’t much more than that.  Dev spent hours in the art room at their old place constructing imaginary cities, building his own railroad, making kites. What was going to happen to that creativity when Dev had no room in which to express it?

Sharon would figure something out. She always did. Declan knew that he didn’t have to worry about the kids. It was just that he missed them so damned much.

5

Sharon and the kids walked around the rooms in the new place on Spring Street, talking, measuring, planning.  There was one very large bedroom, two small bedrooms, living room, and a big kitchen with a place to put their kitchen table. Maven sat smiling in a corner of the living room watching the three as they paced.

“This large bedroom will be a place for you two to sleep and we can put up a partition so that a good amount of space here will be the new art room.”

Doris and Dev looked at each other. They had never shared a room before; however, Dev knew beforehand that probably it would turn out this way.  He told Doris that it would be “loads of fun to share a room and they could tell each other scary stories in the dark.”  He also told Doris that if they were willing to sleep in a very small space there would be a lot of room for their art stuff and their toys. And how much space did two kids need for sleeping?

“But Mommy, where will you do your drawings and your collages?”

“This is one of those times,” Sharon said solemnly “when grownups have to make do. Have you ever heard that expression?”

Dev had. He told his mother and sister that it meant making the best of a situation, usually a bad one.

“But Mom,” said Dev. “You haven’t answered Doris’ question. Where will you draw and make collages?”

“I don’t know yet. You two will have to wait until I have all the data before I make that particular decision.”

“Don’t you love it when she talks like that?” asked Dev, and he and Doris “got goofy” as Sharon liked to say, and they laughed and rolled around on the floor; Maven rushed in to join the fun. He flopped onto his back so Doris could stroke his belly.

“These two small bedrooms…” said Sharon. “I think one of them could hold our double bed. Then there would be this one last room for something. We’ll see.”

6

With Declan coming home for the first time on a Friday at 10:00 PM�"Teresa’s husband Mike gave him a lift home�"Sharon didn’t have the heart to make the kids go to bed. They would just lay there in the dark, whispering, and Maven would whine softly. So Declan’s return home turned into a combination family meeting and party.

They all hugged each other; Sharon got Declan a cold beer from the refrigerator and let the kids each have a Coke�"she was strict about early bedtimes and not letting her kids have too much sugar and caffeine�"and then everyone started to talk at once. Declan said that they should take turns talking and he emphasized that people should feel free to express bad stuff as well as good.

“You first, Daddy,” said Dev. Dev was excited and relieved in his well-contained way; his father was home.  And Declan talked about how much he missed all four of them.  He said that he was able to catch onto the mechanical part of the job, how all the machines worked, but he was still getting to know the people he supervised. He was OK, he said. He smiled at Sharon and said that he missed her cooking. Maven sat beside Declan, smiling broadly. His family was together at last.

Doris said she liked the van that came to take them to school. The driver was funny and nice. And of course she missed Declan coming home every night and reading to her before bed. The new place felt funny without Daddy being there at night and once in a while she would hear a strange, scary noise coming from Craig Street. But Dev had explained to her that Craig Street had some interesting bars and restaurants which meant that some weird people hung around there late. Dev, being Dev, wanted his mother to talk next but Sharon insisted that Dev speak about his experiences.

Dev reported that Mom had smiled a lot this week and Doris only cried once.  He and Doris had tried telling scary stories in the dark but it hadn’t worked out; Doris fell asleep early so Dev read in bed, using his small bedside lamp. Mom hadn’t drawn or made collages this week and he was worried about that. Dev also reported that Maven was happy on Spring Street but in a different way than at the old place. It turned out that Maven liked to be taken for walks with the leash and the crowds on Craig Street which at first frightened him now amused him. He especially liked to be taken to the wide grass expanse surrounding Heinz Chapel. A guard at the Chapel was at first forbidding about allowing their dog to run free around this special place but Dev talked to the guard. He promised him that when he and Doris brought Maven there after school he would always bring some wet paper towels and plastic bags and clean up any messes Maven would leave.  He was used to doing that, he said.

“But guess what Daddy? The guard at the Chapel knew what Maven’s name means!”

“Dev,” said his father gently. “Of course I’m happy to hear about Maven and Mom and Doris, but what about you?”

Dev looked blankly at his father. He thought for a moment. He agreed that after dark the new place felt kind of empty and weird without his father there but when night came he tried to think nice thoughts about being on Spring Street. There was an artist supply store one block up Craig where he had already made friends with the owner, who, impressed with Dev’s serious yet friendly ways, said he would give Dev from time to time free art supplies when stock had been over-ordered.

Then they all looked at Sharon. She looked back into Declan’s happy but tired eyes, Doris, already three-quarters asleep, her head leaning on her father’s shoulder, Dev’s pale watchfulness subdued by the presence of his father, home at last.

Sharon, aiming a quick, knowing smile in her husband’s direction, carried Doris and put her in her bed, covered her, and kissed her cheek.  Then she entered her bedroom and quietly closed the door.

Declan sat down next to Dev and put his arm around Dev’s shoulders. Dev looked at his father. Maven lay down at Declan’s feet, emotionally exhausted.

“You smell good Daddy,” Dev said.

Declan laughed. “Is it hard work, looking after everything while I’m not here? You seem to have done an excellent job.”

“Sometimes I think Doris gets tired of me always explaining things to her. And she doesn’t like me pushing her out the door in the mornings. But we haven’t missed the van even one time.  I told her that just because Mom has the car it doesn’t mean that we should be late. Mom said that as a reward for us always being on time she would pick us up after school every day next week and we can do fun stuff.”

“Is it nice being so close to the library and museum?”

“It’s great Daddy. Except Mom won’t let me cross Forbes Avenue by myself yet.  I asked her when I would be allowed to and she said her normal response would be ‘When I say so’ except that I have a logical mind and I deserve more of an answer. She’s going to watch me crossing by myself and I can go when she’s satisfied that I’ll be safe. She says it’s better to be safe than sorry. Daddy, Mom said something funny.”

“What was it?”

“She said that when I’m by myself in the library and museum she’ll be happy thinking of me as an astronaut enclosed in my own private universe.”

“Your mother is loaded with sterling qualities as we all know but she’s absolutely dotty about the library and museum, the rooms all connected, how you can spend days in there, lost in pleasure..”

Dev’s eyes were closing but he struggled to stay awake. “What’s dotty mean?”

Declan yawned; Dev did also. Declan’s eyes closed and Dev’s head came to rest on his father’s encircling arm.

7

Dev and Doris woke up early on that Saturday morning; Doris wanted to run into their parents’ bedroom and jump onto their father as he lay in bed. But Dev explained that their father was tired and as a reward for her being patient he would read a Dr. Seuss book to her. Doris, giggling, chose Hop on Pop. Except for a treasured few volumes, the family’s books were stored in boxes in the basement. There was little room for books in the new place.

But Declan didn’t sleep much longer. He came out of the bedroom, went to the children and swept them up in his arms. He told them that their mother hadn’t taken her turn last night to share what her experiences had been during this past week.

Sharon came out of the bedroom, saw her children and their father relaxed on the living room floor and tears came but she brushed them away.

Dev said that it was her turn to talk about what happened to her last week.

She pointed to the door of the small yet unused bedroom.

“You see,” she said to Declan, “that this door has remained closed. The kids are curious to know what’s in there, if anything. Well, I have two surprises for you.” She opened the door.

In the small bedroom Sharon had created a miniature museum and library. Shelves lined the walls and were filled with books. One of Dev’s homemade kites was attached to the ceiling; the walls had been repainted a wonderful shade of gold. A desk sat in one of the corners with a comfortable-looking chair. The family gasped.

“Now you guys were a little upset about not having enough room for your books and it felt like a funeral, didn’t it, having all of your beloved books stored in boxes, buried in the basement here. So I went down and resurrected all of your favorites.  Go in and see.”

Declan and the children crowded into the small room. Declan saw his huge C.S. Lewis book collection on a shelf at eye level along with his prayer books; lower down were Dev’s astronomy books along with his books on nature; his mother had found room for his books of flags and one of his globes sat in a corner on the desk.

“Dev,” said his mother, “Open the lower drawer of the desk.”

Dev pulled it open and saw that this drawer had built-in slim partitions that had been put there for filing documents. Sharon had collected all of Dev’s treasured maps and put them in the drawer in alphabetical order.

“You can reorganize your maps, Dev,” said Sharon. “It’s OK.”

Dev said that he liked it just the way it was and he squeezed his mother’s hand.

 Lower down still were Doris’ Pooh books and her one beloved favorite, The Tall Book of Make Believe which was too “tall” to be fitted into normal sized shelves; Sharon had given it a double shelf so it stood, dignified, where Doris could see it. Doris jumped up and down, clapping.

“Oh Mommy!” she exclaimed.

“How did you do this?” Declan asked in an amazed whisper.

“Oh boy,” said Sharon with glee. “Listen to this, guys. This project didn’t cost us a penny.”

 “What? But it’s so beautiful,” said Dev.

“On trash collection day,” reported Sharon, “these shelves were put out on the sidewalk and I grabbed them. What a bargain. I asked the landlord if I could paint the walls in here; he said yes and he gave me the paint and paintbrush. Apparently none of his tenants wanted gold-colored walls.  The desk had been left behind here and I could see that there was nothing wrong with it so I cleaned it up a bit and polished it. Now here’s the other surprise. But by the way, you children, being the naturally curious people that you are, asked me repeatedly if you could come in here and I kept saying that it was a surprise and please keep the door closed? You did as I asked and I’m going to reward you guys with something nice. As I always say, curiosity is the hallmark of intelligence. Now, all of you, especially Dev, have been worried about my not having a studio of my own. Your worries, my darling son, are over.”

Sharon asked them to follow her into the small hallway. She opened the door of a fully packed closet and pulled out her enormous black leather portfolio. Then in the kitchen she placed it on the table.

“Take a look and see what’s inside it.”

Dev, excited and curious, pulled the zipper that closed the portfolio. The family looked. Sharon had condensed almost all of her art supplies�"paper, pieces of cloth, buttons, tape, glue, and her large collection of brushes and scissors and markers�"into the portfolio. It was a tight fit. However, the kitchen table was big enough for Sharon to remove her art supplies from the portfolio and have room to draw and make her collages.

“All I did was condense my stuff. The rest of it is in one of the kitchen drawers.” She stood proudly.

“Mom is this what people call making the best of a bad situation?” asked Dev.

Sharon looked at her husband and children.

“Yes,” she said. “Isn’t it fun?”